The Big Gamble in Pardise; Episode 6

This is the fifth episode of the novel I'm currently writing. The title is The Big Gamble in Paradise. I'm about halfway through my first rewrite, and I think it will be completed in six or eight weeks. I hope you enjoy this episode, and more will follow. 

Episode 6

Trace stood and made his way back the hallway. He opened the door to the captain’s quarters. There was a seaman’s bed with cupboards above it, a small closet. The bed was unmade. He gathered the bedclothes and tossed them outside the door. He flipped the mattress. He laid in the bed, using the backpack as a pillow.

Sleep did not come easy. A thousand thoughts converged at an intersection of confusion and a ship named Paurova.

Sleep eventually came, followed by a knock of the cabin door.

“Trace, Trace, it’s Chuck breakfast in five minutes.”

Trace opened his eyes. “Give me five minutes.”

“That’s what I said,” Chuck said.

“I’m the captain,” Trace said. “And the captain wants another five.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain.”

Trace sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He thought about all the things that collided in his head a few hours earlier. He grabbed his backpack and counted the money. He cleared out Spence’s clothing from a drawer beneath the bunk and stacked most of the money inside. He dropped the remaining money into his packsack and slunk it over his shoulder.

He climbed up the companion way to the pilothouse. In the daylight, he saw how neat and organized it was. The chart table and shelves above are meticulous.

“Was he going to sell it?” Trace thought.

Trace glanced through the ship’s log and files. He murmured, “It looks like he had a woman working for him. No man is this neat.” 

He stepped out of the pilothouse and onto the main deck. He looked out to the sea and breathed deeply. He ducked back into the pilot house, stepped down the stairs, and walked into the salon.

"Mornin',” Trace said to Chuck and Sean as he entered. He sat across the table from Chuck and Sean and laid the backpack in the seat next to him.

A large plate of scrambled eggs and sausage sat in the middle of the table. Steam floated up from the eggs.

“Just in time,” Sean said.

Trace glanced at two seamen’s bags against the wall.

He poured a coffee. “Shoving off?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Sean said.

Trace buttered some toast.

“How much did Spence owe you guys?” Trace said.

They looked at each other.

“About a thousand each,” Sean said.

Trace took a bite of toast and spooned some eggs onto his plate along with two links of sausage. He took a bite of the eggs. “These are great. Not dry and rubbery.”

Chuck and Sean filled their plates.

“So did Spence have anything lined up?” Trace said eating.

“Not that we know, right, Chuck?” Sean said. “Spence never discussed things like that with us.”

“I only met Spence over a game of poker. Before the game, I had no idea he had a boat. Anyway, his room smelled like a barroom, but the pilothouse and chartroom are immaculate. A guy whose professional life was good and his personal life a shambles; is that about it?”

“Yeah,” they said.

“What about his business life?” Trace said.

“Not so good,” Sean said.

“He had a lot of bills?” Trace asked while eating.

“We don’t know for sure,” Chuck said, “but there were all sorts of indications.”

“How much did he owe you guys?” Trace said.

“We told you about a thousand each,” Sean said.

“Just wanted to make sure,” Trace said, reaching into the backpack and gathered several bundles of cash. He placed them to the side of the table. “When we’re done eating, I’m going to the pilothouse. You take what you think is rightfully yours. If it covers everything, that’s fine. If it’s not enough, I’ll be in the pilothouse. That’s some good sausage too.”

The rest of the breakfast was quiet.

When Trace finished. He stood. “Leave your plates. I’ll take care of 'em, and thanks for the breakfast.”

Trace grabbed the backpack and climbed the steps to the pilothouse. He sat at the chart table and opened the desk’s file drawer. He fingered through the files and glanced at some old manifests. He had a little familiarity with them, and they were not detailed. Some had handwritten notes. Each one gave him a piece to a puzzle that he was able to discern how shipments were assembled and delivered.

“Hey, Trace,” Sean said from below, “can we talk for a few minutes?”

“Come on up,” Trace said.

Chuck and Sean emerged into the pilothouse.

Trace smiled. “How much more do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Chuck said. “There’s some left on the table.”

“Before you leave, take a few bucks more and have a night on the town,” Trace said. “But stay away from the poker tables. You’re liable to end up with a boat.”

“What are you going to do with the boat?” Sean said.

“It can take a couple of years to sell a boat,” Trace said. "If you lease it, it would be mine six months later, with tens of thousands needed in repairs. I’d worry all the time it was leased if it was being taken care of. So, I’ll get a crew together and see if I can pick up some cargo to take someplace. Spence left a lot of documents of places he went and did business with. I’ll start there.”

“Chuck and I have been talking,” Sean said.

“We’d like to stay on,” Chuck said.

Trace thought and puckered his lips. He bobbed his head. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” Sean said.

“I am too,” Chuck said.

“I guess we are,” Sean said.

Trace shook their hands. He grinned. “I just saved some money. While I was up here, I was thinking about adding some severance pay.”

“How do you know we didn’t already take it out?” Chuck joked.

“I think we have the makings of a good ship,” Trace said.

“After we break you in,” Sean grinned.

“Tell me what you guys do on this tub?” Trace asked.

“I take care of the engine and all the mechanical and electrical maintenance,” Sean said. “I help store cargo and sometimes take the helm.”

“I do everything else, plus take the blame for everything,” Chuck joked.

“It seems like a pretty slim crew,” Trace said.

“I think we can handle everything,” Sean said.

“It would be nice if we had somebody to take care of the cooking and cleaning,” Chuck added.

Trace continued, “And you need another man on deck. If I can’t make enough to pay a four-man crew, I’ll just toss in the towel. It’s not safe being shorthanded.”

“We are sometimes stretched to our limits,” Chuck said.

“Do you know of anyone who will work cheap?” Trace asked.

“I know a lady who has a son who buses tables at a restaurant," Sean said. “She says he can cook, but they won’t let him.”

“Why don’t you two go talk to this kid? I’ll trust your judgment.” Trace said. “If he looks good, offer him a job.”

“How much will you pay?” Sean asked.

“I don’t know how much you guys get paid, but offer him half of what you make.”

“That’s still a lot for islanders,” Sean said.

“Offer him whatever you think and go no more than half of what you make. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to some brokers and shippers to see if I can drum up some business. And see about another crewman.”

“You might want to get some fuel,” Sean said. “We’re near empty.”

“Spence sure knows when to unload something,” Trace said.

“Nobody ever leaves anybody with a full tank,” Chuck said.

The Big Gamble in Paradise; Episode 5

This is the fifth episode of the novel I'm currently writing. The title is The Big Gamble in Paradise. I'm about halfway through my first rewrite, and I think it will be completed in six or eight weeks. I hope you enjoy this episode, and more will follow. 

Episode 5

They returned to the casino. He walked passively by many of the gambling tables and distracted for a moment, feigning aloof interest.

At the bar, Parker tossed down a twenty-dollar bill and asked the bartender for a Scotch and soda. He told the bartender to keep the change. He feigned nervousness as he downed the drink in three gulps. He headed toward a hallway where the poker rooms and the bathrooms were. At the end of the hallway was a door. Parker opened it. It was a parking lot. He made a dash between the parked cars into the night.

Trace returned to the motel. He quickly walked to the elevator and rode it to the third floor. He got off and found his room. Inside his room, he stashed the money into a backpack and slung it on. He grabbed his bag and opened the door of the room. He looked both ways down the hallway, dashed to the fire escape door, and down three flights of stairs. He exited on the ground floor, looking to his left and right as he peered out. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he dashed to a grove of palms and fought his way through about fifty yards of thick growth. He came upon a lane. It led to the street that led to the harbor.

‘Why is it?” He thought, ‘When you try to look inconspicuous, you stand out like a sore thumb? Come to think of it, I’ve never in my life picked out anybody who had a sore thumb. And I know they exist. I had one once, and nobody knew it. Nobody said, It looks like you have a sore thumb. Maybe we should be saying he sticks out like a man with a bag full of money trying to act nonchalant.’

At the end of the lane, a lone two-masted schooner floated tethered to the dock. A dim light shone through the porthole of the main deck’s housing. The hull was black, and the housing and pilot house were white. Trace swung his legs over the boat’s rail. He turned around to see if anyone had followed.

Trace cupped his hands. “Ahoy?” He waited. “Ahoy!”

Two men opened a door in the main deck housing.

“Who goes there?” One said.

They came to full view in the light provided by dim, distant harbor lights.

“My name is Trace Troy. I just won this boat.”

The men stepped closer. They flashed a flashlight on Trace’s face.

The shorter of the two men had coarse, wavy black hair and appeared not to be pure native. His skin shone lighter than native Fijian’s. The other man had blond, curly hair. He had strong Scandinavian features.

“How do we know you own this boat?” The Fijian said.

Trace reached into the backpack. He pulled out the title and handed it to the men. They both looked at it.

“That’s Spence’s signature. Did he lose it in a poker game?” the Scandinavian said.

“Sounds like you know him well,” Trace said.

“He was pretty deep in debt. He owes everybody,” the Scandinavian said, handing the title back to Trace.

“Can we step below?” Trace said. “I need to know some things.”

The two crewmen motioned with their heads to follow them. They walked aft to the pilothouse and through its door. The Fijian flipped on a small light. The pilothouse was cozy and functional. A high chair, secured to the deck, stood behind the helm. A chart table and radio were behind the chair. On the opposite side, a bench with plenty of length for a good-sized man to stretch out. It extended the length of the pilothouse. 

They climbed below.

“These are the crew’s quarters,” the Scandinavian pointed to four small doors. “This is the captain’s quarters,” he tapped on a fifth door. “The next two doors are the head and shower. And on the left is the galley. And this is the saloon,” he said, stepping into a room that stretched the entire width of the hull and was about seven feet long.”

“I’ll get us some coffee,” a paunchy Fijian man said. He disappeared into the galley and returned with three cups. “I made fresh before you came. We were waiting for Spence.” He sat the cups of coffee on the table and slid a sugar jar and a small container of powdered creamer to the middle of the table.

They sipped the coffee without adding anything.

“Good coffee,” Trace said. He extended his hand to the Fijian. “My name is Adam Troy, Adam Troy The Third. They call me Trace—Spanish for three.”

The Polynesian grasped Trace’s hand. “My name is Chuck Hicks. My family’s last name used to be Hikialani. When they settled in California, they didn’t want people looking at them funny, so they changed it to something that you wouldn’t have to repeat.”

The Scandinavian-looking man, blonde hair and a faint scar on his left cheek, reached across the table. “Sean Murphy. Used to be McMurphy, but my great-grandfather changed it to just Murphy. He said they’d be calling’ ya mick enough without givin' ‘em another opportunity.”

“Wow,” Trace said, “all we need to know about each other is revealed in our names.”

“So how did you win the Paurova?” Chuck said.

“Pair, six high,” Trace said. “The absolute worst hand I had all night. I had the luckiest night of my life. I won big at the dice table. I won at roulette and blackjack. A guy invites me to a poker game in the backroom. I said to myself, I’m only going to lose what I’ve won. That’s what the house wants. They want their money back. Two of the guys at the table were house players. I had somebody with me. I owe him a lot. He may have saved my life and at least a night or two in the hospital. And then there was Jasper Spence. The two guys said they were businessmen just looking to toss their money around. After I won the boat, I grabbed my winnings and took off. By the way, has anybody been looking for me yet?

“No,” they said.

“How long have you two been with Spence?” Trace said.

Sean cleared his throat. “I was with Spence for two years when he had the Ellie. It belonged to a shipping outfit. They decided it was getting too expensive to keep in service, so they had it scrapped. They had the Paurova. It was too small for them, so Spence got it for next to nothing. At first, he put his heart and soul into it. He’s always had a problem with women, booze, and cards. He was good at two and bad at one.”

“I can guess which,” Trace said.

“If I was smart, I’d have signed up with some other crew.” Chuck said, “But I knew the Paurova like the back of my hand. I didn’t want to learn things all over again and become part of a bigger crew. I liked where I was.”

“What about you, Chuck?” Trace asked.

“I came back to the islands wanting to reconnect with my culture,” Chuck said. “I looked like them, but I didn’t think or speak like them. I saw the Paurova at a dock and talked to Captain Spence. He hired me. I worked on a loading dock in LA. That was my experience. Spence gave me a chance. There were plenty of times I could have left and with good reason, but I’m loyal; I stayed.”

Sean sat his coffee down after a sip. “Other than winning a white elephant in a backroom poker game…”

Trace grinned and sipped his coffee. “I worked on a couple cargos on the west coast. I had a friend who worked on cargo in the Aleutians. He told me they were short a man. He told me in a year they’d be going to the South Seas. I took on with them and worked a year in the Aleutians. That turned into two years. You save your money up there. There’s not much to spend it on. So I decided to take a vacation and come down here. I figured that was the only way I was going to see these parts. Now I own a white elephant.”

“Do you have a pilot’s license?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” Trace said. “I went to school, and the ship I piloted was twice this and in seas that make you crap your drawers.”

“Why don’t you just pick up where Spence left off?” Chuck said.

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Trace said. “I don’t have a broker or contacts. It’s a part of the business I know nothing about.”

“When Spence ran out of money, he made a few calls,” Sean said.

“Those are probably relationships he had,” Trace said. “It takes years to establish relationships.”

“He has a little black book in the drawer of the chart table,” Sean said. “He makes calls from that book.”

“Spence and The Paurova was the last choice for a lot of shipments,” Sean said. “There was no one else. Spence and The Paurova had a reputation—not a good one.”

They talked for another hour.

“Which door did you say was the captain’s quarter’s?” Trace yawned.

“Third on the left as you go back,” Chuck said.

“I’m going to turn in. We’ll talk more in the morning,” Trace said.

The Big Gamble in Paradise; Episode 4

This is the second episode of the novel I'm currently writing. The title is The Big Gamble in Paradise. I'm about halfway through my first rewrite, and I think it will be completed in six or eight weeks. I hope you enjoy this episode, and more will follow.

Episode #4

Trace was as skilled as anyone handling cards. He played many hours while passing time on the Bering Sea. But on the ship, it was a distraction, and gambling was not permitted, not even penny-ante—chips only. And if the captain caught a whiff of gambling, there were no second chances. The men at the table now were there for money or ego, and one is just as much an incentive as the other.

Trace sat at the table, knowing he had to lose. Parker impressed upon him that the house did not want him to leave with 35 thousand dollars. The question in his mind was, How much did the house want back? He was determined not to take chances—lose it all—walk out with what he walked in.

He mused if Parker might be the one he had to lose to. After all, it did seem like more than a chance meeting. Parked played well, but cautious. Ted always bluffed. To Trace, that marked him as a little more than an amateur. Baxter appeared very slick and comfortable at the table. Trace surmised this might be his life—a professional. Jasper Spencer appeared the most curious. He looked as though he just crawled out of a bunk and just worked on his automobile in order to get to the casino.

Something seemed to overtake Trace after a few hands. The game completely consumed his thinking. He played to win, forgetting he wanted to walk away from the table with only the money he walked into the casino with.

Parker saw what was going on and tried to make eye contact with him to break him from the mindset that had overcome him. In a high-stakes poker game, it is near impossible because everyone is suspicious of any movement or prolonged stare.

The game ebbed and flowed. Everyone had their time as a winner, but shortly at eleven thirty, Parker ran out of money. Two hands later, Ted and Baxter pulled away from the table. This left Spence and Trace.

Trace looked across the table at Spence and grinned. “So you’re the one.”

“The one, what?” Spence said.

“You know,” Trace said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spence said.

“One more hand for everything?” Trace said.

Spencer rubbed the forefingers and thumbs together on each hand. “It’s your turn to deal. Don’t take this personal, but one last hand and the guy in the bowtie deals.”

“How can I take that personal?” Trace said. “I was about to make the same suggestion.”

“Five cards; whoever has the best hand of those five cards,” Spence said.

“I think that’s a good way to end the evening.” Trace looked at his watch. “I have an unfair advantage. Today is my birthday. I’m not in the least superstitious. But I’ve never had a day like this in my entire life. So to give you an even chance, we play the hand after midnight.”

“Sounds like you want to lose,” Spence said.

“I walked in here tonight with a hundred dollars,” Trace said. “If I leave with that, how do I lose?”

“In order to do that, you better sweeten the pot,” Spence said. “You only have half your chips out there.”

“In order for me to put the rest of my chips on the final hand, you’re going to have to help me out.”

Spence grinned smugly. “I’m tapped out; here’s the title to my boat.”

“Your boat?” Trace said.

“One hundred and five foot schooner,” Spence said. “It’s an island trader, worth a lot more than your final bid.”

“What am I going to do with a one hundred and five foot schooner, shit coconuts?” Trace said.

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Spence said. “You’re luck has run out.”

“Let’s do it,” Trace said.

“New deck,” Spence said.

The man in the bowtie grabbed a new deck from a display on a table next to the wall.

He started to unwrap the deck. Trace placed his hands on the deck. “Stop, I’ll pick the deck.”

The man in the bow tie shrugged. “Which one?”

Trace stretched to look at the decks. “Top row, second from the right.”

The man in the bowtie grabbed the deck. He unwrapped it, and shuffled. He slid the deck to Trace. Trace cut the deck. He let the deck lay. The man in the bowtie picked up the deck and dealt five cards to Spence and Trace.

Trace pressed a smile. He held his arm up and glanced at his watch. “Three past midnight,” he said. “My birthday luck has ran out.” He clicked his cheek. “My weakest hand.” He laid his cards down face up. “Pair, of sixes, nine high. Good game.”

He looked across the table at Spence. He scratched his grizzled beard. Trace started to rise from his chair.

Parker said, “Don’t ya wanna see what Spence is holding?”

Trace finished standing and smirked. “Let’s see your hand, Lucky.”

Spence swallowed hard. He tossed his cards on the table, face up. “Pair of fours, six high. I guess you’re the lucky one. Ya got a pot of forty thousand and a boat.”

Baxter and Ted let out a sigh and congratulated Trace.

Trace shook his head in disbelief. “Two crap hands, and it ain’t even my birthday. What am I going to do with a boat?”

“It’s worth three times what I bet,” Spence said. He signed the title and tossed it across the table.

Trace scraped the pile of money into his bag, and what didn’t fit, he stuffed in his shirt. He picked up the boat title and read it. “Poerava, what does it mean?”

“Black pearl,” Spence said.

“That’s a good name,” Trace said, stashing the title inside his shirt. He glanced at Spence and reached back into his bag and tossed a bundle of ten-dollar bills across the table.

“What’s this for?” Spence said.

“My daddy played some poker. I don’t know how good he was, but he said, If you ever clean a man out, at least leave him with something.”

Spence picked up the bundle and ran his thumb over the edge. “Thanks; this ought to get me back to Brisbane. Maybe I’ll find a game of poker and get lucky.”

“Where’s the boat?”

“It’s docked in the harbor,” Spence said. “It’s the only one there.”

“How big did you say it is?” Trace said.

“One hundred five feet,” Spence said. “A cargo island hopper.”

“A white elephant is more like it,” Trace said sarcastically.

Trace gripped the bag in his fist and walked out of the room. Parker followed.

“Let’s slip in here,” Parker said, opening the door to a men’s room.

Parker locked the door.

“You’re never going to make it back to your motel,” Parker said. “That guy, Spence, was supposed to sucker you into losing all your money. You were smart enough to have the decks switched. The one you were supposed to use was probably marked. There was just one flaw in your plan—remember, you were supposed to lose.”

“I didn’t think it was possible with the hand I had,” Trace said.

Parker stood back and looked at Trace up and down. “We’re pretty much the same size,” Parker started to undress. “Undress,” Parker ordered.

“Why?” Trace said.

“I will be you, and you will be me,” Parker said.

They exchanged clothes.

“I should be so good-looking,” Parker said.

“You must have something in mind,” Trace said.

“We are going to walk out into the casino. I will go to the lounge as you and you will mosey around,” Parker said. “That’s right, isn’t it? Cowboys do a lot of moseying. And slip out the front door, and get back to your motel as fast as you can.”

“What about you?”

'Don’t worry about me,” Parker said, stuffing the money inside Trace’s pockets and inside his shirt.

“Now, let’s go,” Parker said, “and remember...”

Trace interrupted, “Mosey, right.”

“Exactly,” Parker said.

“And you go out there and schlep around,” Trace said.

Parker smiled.